


You Drive Me Crazy

by SmartKIN



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mention of Claudia Stilinski, Swearing, courting via jeep, mentions of the Alpha Pack, mentions of the darach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartKIN/pseuds/SmartKIN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Jeep is the reason for Stiles to agree to go on a date with Peter (even though he vowed to never forgive him for damaging his baby).</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Drive Me Crazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> Because I made a lame [joke](http://lloydoholic.tumblr.com/post/134192362724/lets-be-honest-steter-has-no-basis-in-canon) and it rapidly became a [thing](http://lloydoholic.tumblr.com/post/134455607629/lol-the-whole-jeep-thing-you-know-i-dont-think) (forever thankful to you, dear anon) and I promised to make it an even bigger thing. It’s kinda loosely based on what we headcanoned, and doesn’t really follow it to the letter. Oops?
> 
> For Mar, because they contributed just as many inspiring thinky thoughts, if not more, than I did. I love you lots, pup!

**Then.**

Being kidnapped by a blood-thirsty werewolf turned out to be super awkward. If Stiles was completely honest, he had expected more pain and severed limbs, but Peter freaking Hale merely grabbed his arm in a death grip and dragged him towards the parking lot.

He was a wolf on a mission and Stiles tried to reduce his flailing and stumbling to a minimum, which was really hard, because Peter just strode onward with no thought as to whether his human legs were able to keep up with the pace. He tried to focus on the annoyed outrage he was feeling rather than the memory of a mauled Lydia lying lifelessly on the Lacrosse field. He knew that she had paid the price for his rather painless experience and he would do everything in his power to avenge her.

Peter stopped abruptly when they had reached the parking lot of the school and Stiles nearly crashed into his back.

“ _Dude_ ,” he hissed, but the werewolf ignored him.

Cocking his head and surveying his surroundings, Peter seemed to try and orient himself in the midst of the assembled cars, unable to find his vehicle. But it turned out to be only a momentary confusion, because a second later he continued on his way. But not, as Stiles had assumed, towards the man’s own car. No. Instead, he shoved Stiles towards the Jeep.

“Get in.”

Stiles froze in his tracks. First him and now his Jeep? Why did Peter have to include his precious baby into his evil plans?

He turned halfway around and glanced at the older man.

“But--”

Peter regarded him calmly, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arc, but there was a hardness in his eyes that made Stiles swallow his own words. In the end, what did it really matter which car they used?

Sighing, he walked around the Jeep and climbed obediently behind the wheel.

“Just so you know,” he grumbled as he put on his seat belt, paying no attention as the wolf made himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat, “I haven’t forgotten what you did to my car that night at the school.”

Damaging Roscoe was a capital offense and for that alone Peter deserved to die a horribly slow and painful death.

“Seems fine now,” the man replied indifferently.

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

At that Peter rolled his eyes.

“Start the car.”

Biting back a frustrated growl, Stiles leaned forward and turned on the ignition.

“Ugh, I hope you die tonight.”

Peter’s answering smirk did nothing but fuel his rage.

 

**Half a year later.**

Stiles wanted to be anywhere but Derek’s loft. In all honesty, he didn’t think _anybody_ wanted to be here, least of all the owner.

While he technically agreed that proper communication would have saved them a lot of trouble in the past, he wasn’t so sure that the assembled group of people was actually capable of grasping the concept of sharing relevant information.

Peter certainly wasn’t, and really, they could hardly trust the man’s intel even if he happened to be in a sharing mood. And getting anything out of Derek was like pulling teeth. What did the guy think? That they would turn around and sell him to the Alpha Pack?

A second after that thought had passed through Stiles’ head he realized that it was probably exactly what Derek thought they would do. Sad, but Stiles couldn’t really blame him. Not after what had happened with Scott and Gerard.

In any case, Stiles was less worried about Alpha werewolves and more about psychos who thought human sacrifices were a great thing to do with one’s free time. But just like Isaac, Derek and Cora didn’t think his ‘theory’ had any merit. And Scott was still not convinced enough to back him up on this. Sometimes he hated every werewolf he knew.

As he listened to _another_ loud argument between Derek and Scott about how to deal with the Alphas, Stiles was ready to pull out his own hair in desperation. Which was of course exactly when Peter fucking Hale decided to add his two cents to the conversation.

“Stiles can always drive his Jeep into them as a distraction.”

“ _Oh my God_ ,” he bit out, waving his hands through the air as if he could physically sweep Peter’s statement away from him. He didn’t actually take it seriously until Derek, the traitor, looked like he was actually considering it.

“ _I will not drive my Jeep into a battle zone!_ ”

“But you did such a great job last time,” Peter commented, his eyebrows lifting in mock confusion.

Barely registering the ‘oh no you didn’t’ expression on Scott’s face, Stiles whirled around and snarled at Peter.

“If your pack hadn’t been such a fucked up mess I wouldn’t have had to risk my baby by driving into the Kanima! And really, what the hell do you have against my car anyway? First you rip out the battery, then you destroy my keys, now you want me to ram it into the freaking Alpha Pack – what is your problem?”

For a second Peter blinked in surprise, before regarding him with a disconcertingly intense gaze.

“Stiles...,” Scott mumbled, trying to appease him, but Stiles was done with them all. They could sit around and argue until they were blue in the face for all he cared.

“No, Scott, this is my mom’s car we’re talking about, I won’t let this creep even _near_ my Jeep anymore,” he ground out between clenched teeth and then stormed out of the loft, no longer able to stand another minute of this pointless meeting.

Stupid fucking werewolves.

 

**Now.**

Stiles couldn’t believe that his Jeep was busted _again_. Of course, in comparison to his dad’s life the repairs of a car were only a small price to pay. One he paid gladly, too, even if it made him scared of the day when repairs were no longer possible because he’d driven it off a cliff to save somebody. Or totaled it by driving it into a troll. Or whatever it was that would necessitate Roscoe’s sacrifice. Because in the end Stiles would always choose to save his friends over saving his Jeep, even if it felt like severing one of the last connections he had to his mother.

None of this, however, made him feel very good about having to pay a small fortune. After all, he had driven the Jeep into a freaking tree and would probably have to donate some organs to come up with the money.

When the call from the garage finally came, he tracked there on foot to pick up his car, feeling listless and rejected by the universe. Maybe he should make Derek pay for it, the dude seemed to be doing well for himself. And his baby had helped save the day a lot by now, surely Mr. Grumpy Wolf could be persuaded to part with some of his funds.

After what felt like _hours_ , Stiles finally reached the garage, only to find out that the universe had, after all, been listening to his pleas this time. Which made him instantly suspicious.

“What do you mean, it’s already been paid for?”

He sounded more outraged than he cared to admit, but mysterious happenings never meant anything good in this town.

“Just that,” replied the mechanic, sounding less friendly by the minute, “a man came by and paid for it.”

A terrible suspicion started to take hold of him.

“What did he look like?”

“I don’t know, medium height, brunette, goatee?”

 _Peter Hale_.

“Ugh, of course.”

Somehow this knowledge left a bad taste in his mouth. Unable to keep from grimacing, he tried to figure out what the zombie wolf could possibly gain from paying for his car.

Before he managed to think of anything, though, the mechanic finally lost his patience with him.

“Look, do you want the car or not?”

He dragged a hand over his face.

“Yeah, yeah.”

*

Having his baby back in his possession felt wonderful, and he was tempted to go pick up Scott, turn on some loud music, and go for a drive. But after a moment’s hesitation he decided that he wanted answers more than anything. So instead of spending a well-deserved afternoon goofing off, he took the shortest route to Peter’s apartment.

It had taken some illegal alone time with his dad’s computer at the Sheriff’s Department to unearth the address, but it looked like it had been worth it. He had actually planned on using the address only in emergencies, wanting to have this information just in case somebody’s life depended on it – but now, he couldn’t care less that Peter would become aware of his knowledge in the process.

Parking his car haphazardly in an empty parking space, he catapulted himself out of his Jeep, powered by his renewed indignation. He didn’t need Peter freaking Hale to swoop in and pay for his repairs. And Stiles certainly didn’t want to owe him anything, not even a favor. _Especially_ not a favor. Who knew what Peter would ask him to do.

He took two steps at a time as he raced to the second floor of the nondescript apartment building. His entire surroundings were in fact so unspectacular that Stiles started to feel a little cheated. Not that he had expected another _Glen Capri_... who was he kidding, he had definitely expected another _Glen Capri_. Or a spooky mansion. At least a tiny hint of mystery. But nada.

He shook his head and kept going. This was not important right now. He could bitch about Peter’s lack of villainy style when he had his answers. Or maybe at the same time as getting his answers, he could always multi-task and it would probably annoy the man, and that was always a bonus.

He skidded to a halt in front of Peter’s door and took a steadying breath. Then he squared his shoulders and knocked before he could possibly change his mind.

For several moments Stiles simply stood there in the hallway, restlessly shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He was almost relieved when the eldest Hale pulled the door open with a look of mild surprise on his face.

“Stiles,” Peter said with a drawl that was dangerously close to a purr. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Is it?”

Peter smiled sharply.

“Of course.”

The man stepped back to let him in.

Reluctantly, Stiles complied with the silent offer and slipped past Peter into the apartment. He couldn’t deny that he was curious. And really, he didn’t want to have this conversation out in the hallway, all things considered.

Stiles barely managed to catch a glimpse of Peter’s living room – light-colored furniture, large window, and books, so many books – before the werewolf brought up the one thing that reignited his anger.

“I imagine you want to thank me for your car?”

Instantly forgetting about villain-appropriate interior design, he whirled around and pointed an accusing finger at the self-obsessed werewolf.

“Excuse you? I didn’t ask for your money! And what makes you think it’s okay to go behind my back like that?”

Peter merely appeared to be amused by his outburst.

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you.”

“It isn’t.”

 _God_ , Stiles thought, _what a dick_.

“Why, I’m hurt.”

Instead of slapping that stupid smirk right off Peter’s face, he decided to ask the one question that had been bugging him in all of this.

“So, let’s hear it, what do you want?”

A puzzled look passed over the man’s face.

“Want?”

“Don’t even pretend you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, we both know _that’s_ not true. What’s your angle? There must be _something_ you think you’ll be getting out of this. You know, _what do you want_?” he groused, stepping closer and jabbing Peter’s chest with his index finger. A second later the wolf’s hand came up and grabbed his wrist.

“You seem to have a very low opinion of me, Stiles,” observed the man, sounding as if he regretted nothing as much as this.

But Stiles knew better than to be fooled.

Tugging against Peter’s grip, he rolled his eyes and tried not to show how much the warm, sure touch had caught him off guard. Hyper-aware of the thumb rubbing over his pulse point, he couldn’t quite pay attention to Peter’s next words.

“Would you feel better if I asked for something in return?”

Stiles felt like a deer caught in the headlights as he now met Peter’s hypnotic gaze and barely managed to nod. His mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. Somehow he had lost control over the situation, and he didn’t know how it had happened or how he could possibly turn the tables once more.

“There is one thing you could do for me,” the man purred and squeezed his wrist. Stiles stopped breathing while he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Have dinner with me.”

His pent up breath left him in a rush.

“What?”

“Dinner,” the man repeated, superior smirk back in place, “Friday at six. There is this quaint little Italian place I think you’d appreciate.”

If it had been Peter’s plan to stupefy him with those words, he’d certainly succeeded. Biting the inside of his bottom lip he tried to process the situation.

“You want to have dinner with me,” he asked skeptically, with almost no inflection.

It was now Peter’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Yes, dinner,” the werewolf reiterated, as if talking to a child.

Stiles frowned.

“First, you pay for my car and now you want to buy me dinner?”

Narrowing his eyes in disbelief, Peter finally let go of his wrist and Stiles tried to ignore how cold his skin suddenly felt.

“Are you really this upset that I paid for your repairs?”

“I--,” he started to reply, but stopped himself. Was he upset that Peter had taken care of the bill? Hadn’t he just been thinking about asking Derek to do just that?

Stiles started to realize that it had absolutely nothing to do with the money and everything to do with the fact that it had been _Peter_ who had done him a favor. Usually Peter’s schemes only involved him in a tangential fashion, never focusing on him specifically. They used him, his knowledge, his possessions, his loyalty – but never revolved around him. Which had not only given him an outsider perspective, but also the opportunity to learn about the man’s motivations, his needs and reasoning.

But now…

At the receiving end of Peter’s gaze, his touch, Stiles was altogether too close to the problem. He simply didn’t see what the eldest Hale could possibly be getting out of this charade.

“I just don’t _understand_ ,” he admitted, feeling traces of the well-known uselessness that still befell him occasionally. He hated not understanding.

Peter shrugged.

“I like you, Stiles.”

There they were again, those words. And just like that night in a certain parking lot, they felt so heavy that he instantly regretted prompting them. But instead of being a testament to the aggravated beast, those words bore a different implication now. One that he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge.

“So if I let you buy me dinner,” he asked, voice hoarse, “we’re even?”

Peter shrugged again, attractively calm in a world that was upside-down.

“If it makes up for damaging your Jeep in the past…”

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“I’ll think about it.”

Peter nodded, “Then that’s your answer.”

As he stared into Peter’s eyes it dawned on him what the werewolf had given him – the power to put an upsetting incident behind him and move forward, if he so wished. It was entirely up to him, and Stiles really liked the sound of that.

“So, dinner then,” he found himself agreeing, and realized that he didn’t regret his choice.

Peter’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“It’s a date.”

 


End file.
